


Sweet as Pie

by CinderEmber



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, oc kiss week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5721466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderEmber/pseuds/CinderEmber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rama thinks Lavanor deserves a break from his Inquisitorial duties... and maybe a reward for playing along with his silly ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet as Pie

**Author's Note:**

> For rabidtanuki - a gift for OC Kiss Week over on Tumblr!
> 
> Lavanor Lavellan is one of her lovely OCs. Kaaras "Rama" Adaar is my wonderful dorky OC.

First Leliana had chased Lavanor away from the rookery at the end of their conversation, smiling at him in that mysterious manner of hers and handing him a piece of parchment folded into quarters. The confusing riddle contained within had led him to Dorian, who had laughed at his baffled expression. The Tevinter mage had smiled just as mysteriously as Leliana and simply handed him another riddle, gently pushing towards the stairs and cryptically telling him “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, amatus!”

All over Skyhold, these odd, riddling notes led Lavanor, from the library to his throne, and from his throne to the wine cellar and the kitchen. The last seemed like he might be getting close to the end of this strange scavenger hunt: the cook had taken pity on his increasingly frustrated expression, and told him “It’s a surprise, Your Worship, but you’ll like it, I’m sure” as she handed him a basket with a freshly baked pie laid carefully within.

The very last note had led Lavanor to his own quarters at the very top of Skyhold, and he pushed open the door to his room with curiosity eating at him. As he mounted the stairs, the answer to the question of who had written all those notes and planned this elaborate game revealed itself.

Rama Adaar stood in the middle of the floor, looking about as sheepish and nervous as man of his size and stature could. Spread in a neat rectangle at his feet was a wool blanket, the green and yellow plaid well-worn and faded from use. Lavanor’s arrival had obviously interrupted Rama’s careful organization of the basket’s contents on the blanket’s surface – there was a pair of small plates, but only one fork; and a pair of wine glasses were still sticking out of the top of the basket.

“I thought you could use a break from your duties.” Rama gestured with one hand to the spread blanket, the small plates of finger foods, and the tiny vase of wildflowers – now revealed to be a picnic for two on the floor of Lavanor’s quarters. “Lady Montilyet agreed to hold off all the official things that might need your signature or presence or whatever, for at least an hour.” His eyes landed on the basket that the elf was carrying, and some of the tension he’d been carrying went out of his frame. “Thank the Maker. When you arrived early, I thought you’d gotten fed up with following the clues I’d left.” Rama glanced up at Lavanor and grinned, proud of himself. “Do you know how hard it is to find a rhyme for ‘ceremonial’?”

Lavanor laughed. It was such a silly, frivolous, and sweet gesture. A picnic on the floor - simple, childish fun, something those of the Inquisition did not seem to find much point in indulging. He crossed the room, pausing only to put his own basket down on the edge of the blanket. Now the pie and the bottle of wine, and all those witty, rhyming notes made sense. Lavanor stepped into Rama’s space and laid a hand on the Qunari’s outstretched arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re ridiculous,” he said with a smile.

Rama’s free hand came up and very gently held Lavanor’s chin in his fingers, tilting his face up to look the Qunari in the eyes. His expression was soft, the corners of his mouth curling up in a fond smile. “I hope you won’t think me too ridiculous for this.” Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to Lavanor’s in a kiss. It was a sweet kiss, just the barest pressure of soft lips against his own, as if Rama was afraid he might overwhelm the smaller man.

“I hope that wasn’t too forward of me,” Rama said after he’d pulled away. The difference in height between the two men made kissing a bit of a contortionist’s act for the Qunari, and he straightened up to his full height again with a smile that said the kiss had been worth it. There was a faint blush about his cheeks, his bronzed complexion making it hard to tell exactly how flushed he was. “Dorian said that might not be ill-received?”

“Now, I meant it when I wrote that line about the pie being better served warm. “ He gave Lavanor a gentle nudge towards the blanket and grinned. “Let’s eat.”


End file.
